


Betrayal is a Thorny Crown (You Wear It Well)

by Snegurochka



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-04
Updated: 2010-03-04
Packaged: 2017-10-10 22:48:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snegurochka/pseuds/Snegurochka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years after taking his fifteen-year-old godbrother's virginity, Teddy has done everything he can to avoid James. He is definitely not supposed to look this good when Teddy finally runs into him again, but Teddy is pretty sure the kid will never forgive him for disappearing like that.</p><p>8,800 words. NC-17. Past underage. Written for the Remix challenge at daily_deviant. March 2010.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Betrayal is a Thorny Crown (You Wear It Well)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Remix challenge at daily_deviant: this is a remix/sequel, done with permission, of fleshdress' amazing Teddy/James fic, [Bruised Like a Cherry (Ripe as a Peach)](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/daily_deviant/96394.html). The lines in italics belong to fleshdress from the original fic, and she gets a giant medal for being so enthusiastic and encouraging when I asked her if she'd mind me doing this. Following from the original, the title is also from Rilo Kiley. Many thanks also to marguerite_26 for the beta work.

_"You. Can. Fuck. Me."_

The petulant words flicker across Teddy's mind and he thinks he might shatter the champagne flute in his hand.

_"I'd let you."_

He manages to unclench his fingers only after they begin to ache, but it doesn't change the fact that James is _not_ in Egypt where he is supposed to be, not thousands of kilometres away from Teddy's mind and body and bed and hands and come-stained sheets, oh no, he is right here, just walking through Bill and Fleur's door like he owns the place, like he hasn't been gone for years, like he deserves that drink Al thrusts into his hand.

It takes exactly three seconds for James to scan the room and register the faces of the various cousins and aunts and sprogs elated to see him again before he finds Teddy crowded back against the living room wall, an overgrown plant not doing nearly enough work to hide him. James's face darkens and his eyes nail Teddy to the spot.

_"I'm fifteen, almost sixteen. I'm not a kid. I know what I want."_

No, Christ, he didn't have any clue what he wanted back then; he was a teenager with a crush, and Teddy ignored all that and took him to a shady hotel anyway, dizzy with the idea of his cock being the first one James ever felt hot and pulsing inside him. What red-blooded bloke didn't dream of that, didn't wake up gasping and panting from filthy dreams of debauching bright-eyed virgins who were begging to get fucked by older, harder, more experienced men? And so Teddy went and did it, went and pressed James back against those stained hotel sheets, fucking him too much, too hard, and with just enough moans mistaken for true intimacy that James thought it meant _love_, meant they were a couple, meant that a twenty-two-year-old Ministry clerk fucking his fifteen-year-old pseudo-brother was just absolutely fine.

Teddy can't hold James's accusing gaze but he can't look away, either. James must be nineteen now, maybe twenty, out of school for longer than a year at least and travelling the world on the strength of his dad and uncles' contacts in wizarding Europe and Africa, strolling through life, continent to continent, just like he always strolled through those back alleys of Hogsmeade to meet Teddy for a snog and a handjob. Nothing is ever a problem for James Potter.

No one ever says no to him.

James turns to give Molly a kiss on the cheek and allow her to wrap her arms around him, rubbing her hands over his shoulders and sighing happily as she pulls back to get a better look at him. She won't be able to say he's too thin, nor that he's out of shape. Teddy can tell that much from his spot behind the plant. Where James at fifteen was hardly child-like or gangly, he was much more tender, all coltish limbs and brashly naïve pink cheeks. Now, he has a chest of muscle and forearms rough with hair just visible where his shirtsleeves are rolled up. Another dark patch peeks out of his open collar, and Teddy's stomach does a deep dive when he realises he has been staring at it.

_"Oh come on, Teddy, isn't it about time we fucked? Isn't that what all this has been about?"_

Teddy's body is assaulted by an arousal he hasn't felt in five goddamn years, not this acute. He drinks in James's freshly shaven face and rumpled hair and remembers those same fierce eyes staring up at him from that bed, pleading with him to do it and _mean it_, to understand exactly what James was asking of him. James finally tears his eyes away from Teddy but makes no movement to say hello or come to his side of the bustling living room at all, and Teddy tries to tell himself that he's relieved, not disappointed.

_"You don't look straight. When you're letting me suck on your tongue or putting your hand between my legs… you don't look straight then."_

No. He didn't look straight then. That only came later, when he did anything he could think of to strip the taste and smell and feel of James from his skin.

"James is here! Did you see?"

Teddy's heart stops. No, not now, not now, not when he's –

"He looks wonderful! Dad says Egypt does that to a person, even if they don't know it. They come back here and make the rest of us look like we just stepped out of a powder room at Versailles." Victoire trills out a laugh and clinks her glass against Teddy's. "Go say hello," she adds with a nudge, passing him her glass. "I need more wine, anyway."

The strap of her little dress is slipping off her shoulder when he glances down at her, and he can never say no to her, so he shakes his head at her pretty smile and steels himself to give James his best casual hello. No, not casual; nothing between them has been casual since the day Teddy panicked like a little kid in a forbidden candy shop, refusing to return James's letters or Floos and sending him only a tersely-worded note when it finally got to be too much. He barely remembers what it said anymore, but every bit of it was a lie – _No, never again, I love Victoire_, etc – and James, uncharacteristically, fell into radio silence.

"Hi."

James doesn't turn, not right away, and when he does, Teddy hopes he'll never see that look on James's face again. He can barely process it. Anger he could deal with. Disappointment, too, or even disdain. He expects James to shout at him, ranting too loudly and in too much detail about every way that Teddy wronged him, making sure to create a rousing good scene that would properly humiliate Teddy and get the revenge James has long been planning.

But none of that happens.

James's face shutters completely, a neutral mask settling over it as he appraises Teddy. "Hi," he says evenly, his gaze steady.

"I, uh–" Teddy can't do this, cannot even _attempt_ to do this. "Just getting more wine for–" He gestures over his shoulder apologetically, but James's gaze doesn't follow. "Are you– I mean, so, how are you?"

James blinks. "How am I?" Teddy is sure the anger will come now, bursting forth in some spectacular but typical teenage-James fashion. But he only swallows a low laugh, ducking his head down and running his free hand through his hair. He pauses to shake his head before tipping the beer bottle up to his lips. Teddy's gaze fixates on the swell of James's throat, and then on the condensation dripping off the bottle and over the pads of his fingers. "I'm good, Teddy," he says at last, that benign expression settling back over his face. "Really good. How are you?"

There is no sincerity to the question, not like the James Teddy used to know. It's as if James has stripped his voice of all his teenage petulance, of every emotion he used to wear on his face and all the way down his sleeve. Teddy doesn't know why he expected anything different, not where the two of them are concerned. "I'm, yeah, I'm good." Teddy is staring, he knows he is, and now that James is so close to him again, for the first time in five bloody years, everything is rushing back.

_"You can top."_

He squeezes his eyes shut and rubs his forehead.

"All right?"

"I– no. Not really." Teddy takes a deep breath and stills his hand. He opens his eyes and knows he isn't doing a very job of keeping his own face as neutral as James's. He can't seem to say what he needs to say, so he tries to wear it on his face, tries to let James see the confusion and regret and longing there. Five years. He needs to know if James still tastes of cigarettes.

_"I'm not too young. I've been thinking about it, Teddy. Wanking while I think about you fucking me, how it'd feel to have you hot and hard and in me. What we've been doing, it's fun but… it's not enough. I want more and I want it from you."_

"It's good to see you," breathes Teddy at last, the words tumbling out of him in a low voice. "I just– Jesus. It's really fucking good to see you. You look–" He drops his eyes down over James's chest and torso, taking in a shaky breath. He waits for it, waits and hopes for James to acknowledge that he feels the same.

James's mask slips only a fraction, when his lips press together too tightly and his eyes flash.

"I'm _sorry_," whispers Teddy, reaching out and grasping James's bicep. This is humiliating; what is he doing? His fingers mould around James's body and despite the fabric of the shirt, he can still feel the arousal that touching James always sparked in him. "Come on, talk to me for one second, would you? This is–"

James opens his mouth as if to speak, his eyes desperate before they drop down to take in Teddy's fingers clenched around his arm.

"Hey, hands off. He's mine till he's got at least six more beers in him. Hey-oh!" Al comes up behind them and knocks Teddy away, laughing as he puts James in a chokehold and tries to lift him off the ground.

"Oh, you little–" James tips over only briefly before righting himself and turning his weightier frame on Al. They tussle and laugh and Teddy hovers awkwardly on the outskirts of their bond. Finally, James slings his arm around his little brother and they saunter off. Over his shoulder, he calls to Teddy, "Wine's that way. Better not keep her waiting." A hardened gaze slices through Teddy before James turns around again, deliberately reaching out to mess up his sister's hair as she shrieks and runs away.

Teddy's mouth opens a little bit. He– oh. No. Fuck. He thinks –

_"I'm only being a prick because I want it, Teddy, want you."_

Teddy's hands begin to tremble around Victoire's glass. He needs to get out of here. Five years of carefully avoiding family functions involving James – easier than it might appear, with James at school for much of it and Teddy artfully designing to spend Christmases on a mate's sofa in Edinburgh or with Victoire's cousins in Nice – all coming crashing down around him. All because he had to spend a single afternoon pushing his cock into a fifteen-year-old kid who barely knew what he was asking for.

"So! Where is this famous Martin we keep hearing about?"

Ginny's voice rings out across the room, and Teddy looks up to see James's face shift, the lines over his forehead drawn into a furious crease. "_Mum_." His lips barely move.

"You should bring him 'round!" Ginny waves her hand as she approaches him, grasping his arm and leaning in. "You know we'd all love to meet him."

Teddy blinks, slowly turning his head to take in the reactions of the rest of the family. There is some uncomfortable shifting near the door, some averted eyes, some beaming smiles, and some continued chatter among those disinterested in yet another dating discussion among the various sprogs. Teddy is not one of them, not in this case, because this means James has told his family. James has _actually _–

Wait. Not only has he told his family, he is _still gay_. Not confused teenage experimentation. Not something he was going to regret a week later, or do just to get out of his system. Not a misplaced brotherly crush on Teddy. Five years later, James is still dating men.

James is fucking men. Other men.

Teddy feels his fingers clench and has to take several deep breaths to keep himself from charging across the living room, grabbing James by the collar, shoving him up against the wall and kissing him breathless. Beside James, Al hides a laugh behind his hand, ducking away from his mother and sidling up to Teddy. His eyes are dancing with mirth.

"He makes the mistake of mentioning _one_ bloke's name when she begs him to tell her what he's been up to," says Al in a low voice, still snickering, "and now he's got to bring him 'round for Christmas or Mum'll go spare. I told him to keep his mouth shut."

Teddy forces a laugh. "Yeah. Wow. That must be... tough. But," he ventures, pushing the words out, "so, he's gay, then?" He tries to keep the question casual. Al glances sideways at him, arching an eyebrow.

"You been hiding under a rock, Lupin?"

Teddy elbows him. "Work," he mutters. "Up in Scotland for a bit. France. You know." He shrugs. "Haven't seen much of him for a while."

"All right, yeah. Well, then, there you have it. Made some big poncy announcement a few years ago, and everyone's been doing back flips ever since to make sure he feels 'accepted.'" Al rolls his eyes and curls the word off his tongue.

"So, your parents don't mind?" All Teddy can think of is himself at fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, visions of full breasts crossing in his dreams with sweaty Quidditch kits peeling down over muscled chests and strong thighs, convinced no one would ever understand him.

_"You can insult me all you like. I know what I want and I'm not leaving 'til I get it."_

That was always the thing about James back then: he never wavered, never asked if it was okay to want the things he wanted, never hesitated for one fucking second before looking Teddy square in the eye and demanding Teddy's cock in his arse.

"Mind?" Al laughs. "Mum's over the moon about it. Dad... I don't know. He's a bit weird, but that's just Dad." He narrows his eyes as he glances at Teddy. "And anyway, why are _you_ being weird about it? Didn't you used to be pretty gay awhile back?"

Teddy swallows a cough, that old paranoia welling up in his chest. "I– what?"

"Al!"

They both look up to find James staring daggers at them from across the room. He charges forward, jerking his thumb towards the door.

"Lily wants you."

He says it evenly, his eyes level, and Al doesn't question it. Shrugging, he heads off to the kitchen, leaving Teddy behind to blink at James. Before Teddy can react, James has him crowded up against the corner wall, his lips close to Teddy's ear.

"Almost eighteen, Teddy. He's a bit old for you, isn't he?"

Teddy freezes at the trickle of ice in James's voice. He struggles to keep his voice even. "I've no interest in your brother."

"No?"

"No."

"No," agrees James. "I guess he _is_ too old." He rubs his jaw.

"Don't you fucking dare," whispers Teddy, his fingers clenching around James's wrist as he tries to move away. He shouldn't bring this up, not with their family pressing in around them and secrets that have been hidden deep for years now sputtering for air at the surface. He says it anyway: "You begged me for it."

"Yeah, I did." James's eyes flash. "And I begged you not to walk away when it was over, too, didn't I?"

"I told you it couldn't be more than once."

"No, you didn't."

"I–" Teddy presses his lips together. "You were too fucking young," he mutters. "What did you think was going to happen – we'd skip off to tell your dad we were boyfriends now, just because I kidnapped you from your Hogsmeade weekend and fucked you in a filthy hotel room?"

A shadow passes over James's face. His lips part as he gazes at Teddy. "Is that the story now? I thought I begged you for it."

Teddy runs a hand over his face.

"Where'd this hero complex come from, anyway? You weren't such a saint back then. You shoved your cock in me and then sent me back to school to sit my fucking O.W.L.s, didn't you? A real saint, fucking me that day and then going off to buy flowers for your precious girlfriend the next."

Teddy closes his eyes.

"So what happened?" presses James in a low voice, still standing dangerously close to Teddy at the corner of the bustling room.

Teddy shakes his head.

"What was it?"

Just leave it, Teddy thinks. There's no going back to that place, anyway, no point trying to recapture a moment from so long ago now, when they were both different people.

"Teddy," growls James, "I swear to fucking God, you are going to tell me what the fuck happened to change your mind, because you owe me that much. I know you fucked me because you wanted to, because it felt bloody amazing, because we were a fucking amazing match, and because you wanted to, you fucking wanted to, and you can't just walk into my uncle's house like this and stare at me like that, try to make small talk with me like that, like you didn't break my fucking heart, so go on. Tell me. Tell me what was so fucking different afterwards that you had to turn me out like a–"

"You were!" Teddy finally whispers fiercely, his fingers digging into James's arm. "_You_ were different. And I was. You want to talk about broken hearts, try being _me_ that day. The rest of that week. The next fucking month, even. Try realising for sure what you'd always suspected – that the kid on the bed underneath you is completely bloody amazing. That he's naked and gorgeous and knows exactly what he wants, and you– _James_. You were so determined, wanting sex and wanting it from _me_, and you were, Christ, you were _fifteen_." His voice trails off at the word, the one he has spun over and over again in his mind ever since. He slumps back against the wall, defeated.

When he raises his eyes, James is staring at him.

"You were fifteen," continues Teddy slowly, "and you told me you loved me, and you were completely gorgeous, and devastating, and perfect." He pauses, letting their breath mix in the air between them. "What was I supposed to do with that?"

"I– okay." Teddy has rattled him. He watches in fascination as James's careful mask begins to crumble, all that old teenage petulance and emotion Teddy remembers from before washing over James's features again. "Just, you could have–" James lets out a slow breath and then shakes his head as if to clear it.

"I could have, yeah, and I said I was sorry." Teddy pauses, his heart beating too fast. He dares to shift his fingers on James's arm, turn his grip into a brief caress. "You were always a headstrong kid. Can't imagine you didn't get over me in a week, anyway." He forces a grin, but James isn't laughing.

His eyes have fallen to the path of Teddy's fingers over his wrist. "Never got over you," he murmurs.

Teddy doesn't know what to say to that, because it's everything he's hoped for and everything he still can't deal with. "James–" he begins, but James shakes his head firmly and steps away.

"Nope," he says, his voice clipped with forced joviality. "Not _the talk_. I'm good. It was ages ago. You and Vic are gorgeous together anyway, and I've got this German bloke back in Cairo with a cock of steel, all right? So, just, don't get your knickers in a twist."

He's striding off before Teddy can stop him, heading across the room and busying himself in a conversation with Bill and Percy that Teddy dare not interrupt; the brat _knows_ Teddy is scared witless of Bill fucking Weasley, so yeah, that's a pretty good place to hide. Fuck.

He's lost in his thoughts again, ready to just say fuck it to this whole stupid dinner and head back home to get smashingly drunk, maybe wank to memories of James's teenage body spread out underneath him, when a small sigh beside him makes him turn his head. He glances down and quickly squeezes his eyes shut. "Don't even fucking say it."

"I didn't say anything!" protests Victoire, smoothing her hair back with the hand not holding a full glass of wine.

"Yes, you did. You came over here and _sighed_, which means you have Opinions."

"If you weren't so scared of my father, you could march right over there and snog your lad senseless, now, couldn't you?"

"I'm not _scared _of– Christ. Just leave it, would you?"

"No. Not my style, sweetie. You're the one who runs off and can't deal with anything until someone like me, or _James_, forces you to deal with it."

Defeated, Teddy slumps back against the wall and reaches for her wine. He takes a gulp and clutches the glass to his chest. "He thinks we're still together."

"What? I thought the whole problem was that he thinks you chucked him when he was–"

"Not me and him." Teddy rubs his eyes. "Me and _you_."

She pauses. "Why on earth would he think that?"

Exasperated, Teddy tilts his head to the side, swirling his hand between them. "We don't exactly look like we're not."

"Oh, for God's sake." She makes to march off across the room, but, aghast, Teddy jumps forward and grabs her arm.

"Don't you fucking dare."

"You both _deserve_ to be alone!" she exclaims, stamping her foot. "Honest to bloody Christ. _Men_." She checks her watch. "Well, Robert should be here any time now. Do let me know if there's anything else I can _possibly _do to make it easier for you to get your head out of your arse and tell the lad how you bloody feel." She turns with her usual flourish and heads to the kitchen, muttering about her stolen wine.

_"She's such a cold bitch, I'm surprised you don't have to thaw your dick after every time it's been in her."_

Teddy nearly chokes at the memory. James had no idea back then, no clue what Victoire was actually like. She was Teddy's first love and the first body he'd been allowed to experiment with – and his for her – but she wasn't stupid and she certainly wasn't ready to settle down at eighteen. She saw Teddy's eye on James before he'd even recognised it himself. He takes another slow swallow of wine and watches James across the room. Everything about him has always been so _easy_, from the carefree fall of his hair to the casual gestures he makes with his hands as he illustrates a story he's telling Bill. He takes another pull from his beer bottle and shoves the other hand in his pocket. His chest is broader now, but Teddy still can't get over the fact that this perfect creature is the same cocksure little brat who made such a brave showing that day, giving Teddy everything he had and more in return for Teddy's affection.

_"I love you."_

Teddy was balls deep inside him when James said it, his jaw set and a challenge in his eyes. Across the room now, James has met his gaze over Bill's shoulder, his eyes piercing through Teddy. Teddy wonders what he sees. To James, is he still that older, more experienced man who seemed so dashing and taboo to a fifteen-year-old, a bloke with a job and a girlfriend and bills to pay? He's twenty-seven now and still searching for meaning in his life, still holding down the job and paying the bills but hardly cutting a dashing figure and hardly impressing teenagers with his prowess anymore. What on earth would a bloke like James see in him now?

_"I love you, Teddy."_

The memory of James's full lips forming those words, his hair damp with sweat and his legs pressed up into his body as Teddy pushed inside him nearly make Teddy lose his grip on the wineglass. James is still watching, something very much like that same look on his face.

Fuck.

He slams the glass down on the nearest table and strides across the room. "Excuse me, sir, can I have a word with James?"

Bill smirks, glancing between them. "We were in the middle of something, Teddy."

Teddy cowers, but only for a moment. "I– sorry, sir. Just, it's important."

Bill raises his hands in surrender, making a show of backing out of their circle, that damn smirk still on his lips. "I'll bet it is," Teddy hears him mutter, the bastard.

"Quit stalking me," says James when they are alone, taking another swig of his beer.

"Haha. Yeah. Fine." Teddy crowds his space, leaning in close to his ear. "I'm not standing here another second watching you and wishing I could take your clothes off and bend you over that sofa."

James pales.

"So I'm going to thank Fleur politely and then I'm leaving, and I'm going to the Three Broomsticks, and I'm going to get room number 410, and I am going to wank myself raw thinking about what we did on that bed five years ago. If you don't show up in twenty minutes, then I'm just a pathetic old pervert with a thing for obnoxious teenaged boys."

James blinks at him but quickly regains his voice. "And if I do?" He narrows his eyes, a flush creeping up his cheeks.

Teddy lets his gaze linger at the hollow of James's throat before sliding up to meet his eyes again. "Then I'll make it all up to you," he breathes. "Everything I fucked up."

James closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, clenching his fingers around his bottle. "And when it's over, are you going to pull out, wipe your dick on me, and then go back home to your girlfriend?"

"I suggest," says Teddy evenly, trying not to lose control, "that you watch that door." He gestures towards the front hall. Before James can say anything else, Teddy moves off to find Fleur.

Right on cue, the door chime rings and Victoire flies down the hall to open it.

"Eeee!" she trills, flinging her arms around a tall man in spotless Auror robes. "I thought you'd _never_ get here. Everyone here is so boring. Come on, have a drink." She stands on her tiptoes and lets him wrap his arms around her, kissing her soundly. He smiles fondly at her when he pulls away, clearing a strand of hair from her cheek.

Teddy glances at James, finding him staring at the scene with his lips parted and his cheeks flushed. He darts his eyes over to Teddy, longing etched all over his face. Ducking his head down over a smile, Teddy only nods at him before sneaking past the commotion at the door and out into the night.

The Three Broomsticks is crowded when he arrives, but it's easy to get Hannah's attention and slip upstairs with minimal fuss. He has a flat of his own, but there is something to be said for nostalgia at a time like this, he figures. The door still creaks. The bed looks different – no, the same. Different colour. Fuck it, who knows. He didn't exactly catalogue the furniture last time. He sits down in an armchair to wait, trying not to get all melodramatic about the past, the future, and what this all might mean.

It's just a fuck, for Christ's sake.

"Oh, you lying liar. You're not wanking."

A relieved grin spreads over Teddy's face as he glances at the window to see James climbing in.

"Fuck. This thing used to be bigger." He rubs his head and jumps the final two feet down, sliding it closed behind him. He stands across the room, arms folded over his chest, and stares at Teddy. "Let me guess: you're thinking again."

Teddy drops his head, still smiling.

"Talk about déjà vu. All you need is the promise of sex with me, in this room, and you have to have an existential crisis. Been there, done that." He turns around and reaches for the windowsill again.

"Now this is the kid I remember. Shut the fuck up and get over here."

Glancing back over his shoulder, James grins. "Oh, I'm a kid now, yeah? Want me to shave my chest, too, really make the experience realistic for you?"

"Shut the fuck _up_. Christ." Teddy meets him at the wall beside the window, pushing him back against it and leaning in close. "Were you sedated back at the house, or what?"

James's hands slide through Teddy's hair, drawing his mouth down to James's neck and jaw line. Teddy's mouth ghosts over his skin, and he shivers. "No. I was _trying_ to make you see that I was older now, more mature. So maybe you wouldn't be such an arse anymore."

Teddy lifts his head, his palms smoothing down James's chest. "Did it work?"

"I don't know yet."

Teddy grins. He touches his forehead to James's and sighs when James falls silent. "I'm sorry," he murmurs.

"You've avoided me for five fucking years, you know. That's not easy in this family."

"I know." His fingers pull at the buttons of James's shirt. "I'm sorry."

"So, you're not with Victoire anymore – hey, a postcard about that would've been nice – and you're not making up excuses to go to Edinburgh every holiday."

"No. And no." James's shirt opens under Teddy's hands, his chest broad and firm. "And I'm still sorry."

James moans, the back of his head hitting the wall. "God, Teddy." He pulls Teddy in and kisses him breathless. He tastes just like he used to, just like Teddy always wanted James to taste, but he's got some bloody experience now, it seems, because his lips are firm and seeking and his tongue is sliding against Teddy's with practiced ease, and the sense-memory of what fucking James was like comes back in full force, exploding throughout Teddy's body. In ten seconds, he's so hard he can barely see straight.

James notices, tilting his hips against Teddy's and groaning.

"Still a cockslut for me, I see."

Teddy laughs against his lips, wondering how James can still manage to shock him. "I think that's the other way around," he murmurs, grinding slowly against James until James has to suck in a breath, shuddering against the wall. Teddy pulls him forward, taking his arm and shoving him towards the bed. "On your back, Potter."

James's eyes flash over his shoulder as he stumbles against the bed, a startled bark of laughter ringing out. "So, are we going to recreate all that brilliant, illegal romance of our first time together?" He sinks down onto the bed and smirks. "I'll spread my legs and put on a brave face, and you can wring your hands about how young and virginal I am, and then we'll both agree that you should fuck me through the mattress?"

A strangled sound leaves Teddy's throat at the very thought of all that. He throws his shirt to the floor and crawls onto the bed, but once he gets there, he hesitates. "No," he says. "I don't want you the way you used to be. I want you the way you are now. And I want–" His mouth pauses over the next words and he ducks his head down to mask it, brushing his lips over James's.

When he pulls back again, James is watching him, all that teenage swagger pushed aside for now. He quickly shrugs his own shirt off his shoulders, propping himself up on his elbows. "What if I'm not that different?"

"You are." Teddy moves down to bite gently at James's throat. "You are, and you aren't. You aren't as confident anymore, because the wanker who was your first treated you like–" He grimaces. When James's expected laughter doesn't come, Teddy raises his head.

A shadow crosses James's face.

Teddy sits back on his heels, smoothing his palms over his thighs to calm himself. After a pause, he takes a deep breath. "Do you remember what you told me that day, about your father?"

James blinks, wets his lips, and nods.

"You thought he might have had a man in his past, someone he cared about but turned away, thinking there were other expectations for him, that he should get married and have a family."

"Yeah, and not just any man. _Malf_–"

Teddy cuts him off. "Yeah. I know. Even if it's true, that part doesn't matter." He pauses again, looking down at his hands.

"Lupin," deadpans James at last, "are you trying to tell me that you're my dad, and I'm Malfoy's dad, and you fucked me when I was a teenager but then figured you were a war orphan who should recreate a nuclear family with a Weasley woman, and that's why you–"

"Oh my God, shut _up_." Teddy tackles him down to the sheets, James's laughter ringing in his ears. Teddy wrestles control and pins James's wrists on either side of his head, straddling him. Gazing down at him, Teddy sighs. "What I'm trying to tell you," he says, exasperated, "is that I'm me, and you're you, and I couldn't admit how much I wanted you back then, but I can now. Okay?" He gives James a stern glare, but James's face melts.

"Oh," he breathes. "I– yeah. Okay." James shifts his legs until Teddy collapses down against him, James's arms anchoring him. "Come here, God." He tangles his fingers in Teddy's hair and draws him down for a deep kiss. "You're completely mental, you know that?"

Teddy laughs into James's mouth, but soon he's moaning, sliding his hips against James's until he feels hot and chafed under his trousers, James's hands warm over the skin of his neck and shoulders. The little noises James is making in the back of his throat dance down Teddy's spine. The sounds are deeper than they used to be, more genuine, maybe, and not masked with false bravado. This is James as he's meant to moan, Teddy decides as his tongue presses against James's, sliding down slowly until they're tangled only at the tip. Their lips separate and they grin at each other – the stupid, dopey grins people get from complete comfort with a lover, from that giddy feeling of perfect contentment that only comes from knowing you could just as easily have a drinking contest with this person at a Quidditch match as lay him down on a bed and work him over with your fingers until he's sobbing with need.

Teddy's breath stutters with the realisation.

He sits up and wriggles out of the rest of his clothing, then turns to watch as James follows suit. Oddly, James becomes shy when they're naked, nothing like the brash, confident kid of a few years ago. He lies back and puts one hand behind his head, but the other one rests on his stomach, trembling. His last two fingers stretch down towards his cock without quite touching the head. He takes in a quivering breath.

With one light fingertip, Teddy begins to touch him. Kneeling at his side, he drags his index finger over James's thighs and up one hip. He never imagined fifteen-year-old James would have had the patience for something like actual foreplay, so he wonders if this James will. His fingers move quietly to James's balls and up his shaft, feathery touches making him tremble.

"Christ, Teddy," he whispers before his eyes slide shut.

Teddy's cock is aching just from being naked with James again. He can't even admit to himself how often he's dreamt of this over the years. Before he can stop himself, he grasps his own dick lightly and leans over James's body, following the path of his fingers. He touches his cock to James's, mesmerised by how they look together. James makes a whimpering sound, and finally, Teddy has found a way to shut him up, it seems. "Like that?" he murmurs, and James huffs out a laugh.

"You and your werewolf dick," he manages. "Yeah. I've missed that thing."

Shaking his head and smiling, Teddy focuses again on what he's doing, on the feel of James's hot skin against his. He drags his cock down James's shaft, and as he watches the way James's dick thickens against his stomach, heavy and dark, Teddy's mouth goes dry. He comes to a decision, climbs on top of James, and straddles his thighs before leaning down and kissing him again.

James is straining up towards him, fingers tight against the back of Teddy's head and thumbs anchored on either side of Teddy's jaw. God, kissing James is a revelation. Before, Teddy never lost sight of the degree to which it was all an adolescent experiment for James, how boys his age knew about kissing only from magazines and tall tales told under firelight. This James knows about kissing for all kinds of different reasons.

A shiver passes down Teddy's spine as he leans in close to James's ear. "You can top," he whispers, and then, just to make sure James gets the reference, he pulls back and bites his lower lip, a perfect petulant mockery of James himself five years ago. "I'd let you." But it's not five years ago, and Teddy isn't joking. The look on James's face reminds him of that. Wide-eyed and flushed, the look of pure longing that passes over James's features seems capable of erasing every bit of heartache the pair of them might have gone through in the past five years. It's stripped of all masks, full of trust and probably something more that Teddy isn't able to think about just yet.

"Fuck off," says James, a grin starting to tug at the corners of his mouth. There's that bravado again. He's overwhelmed, masking it with jokes. "You would not."

In reply, Teddy sits back against James's thighs. Despite his trembling hand, he reaches down and trails his fingers over his cock and then lower, skimming over his balls and biting back a moan at the intense way James is watching him. Lower still, Teddy sweeps his fingers into his cleft, whispering a lubrication spell, and even if James can't see what he's doing at this angle, Teddy closes his eyes and gasps at the contact.

God. It's been awhile.

"Oh, God," says James, his hands anchored on Teddy's thighs. "Really? Seriously? Because I– okay. I've thought about this, but then, I like sex the other way, too, so I always just do it like that, and–"

Teddy pauses. "So mine isn't the only cock you've had?"

James closes his mouth but then smiles. "Only you, Teddy." Teddy rolls his eyes.

"Liar."

"Well, okay." James struggles to sit up, sliding his hands up Teddy's chest and leaning in to nip at his neck and shoulder. "I wanted you to be the only one; I really did. I tried for a long time only to give blow jobs and stuff, but you wouldn't believe how many blokes wanted to fuck me."

Teddy frowns, stilling his hand.

"Oh. I mean– just–"

"Here," Teddy instructs, his voice rough as he guides James's fingers between his legs.

James groans, sitting up more and instinctively trying to push in too quickly. Teddy clenches against him, giving him a stern look.

"So you're not a virgin anymore," says Teddy quietly, "and I'm not even the only one who knows what it's like to spread you open and fuck you."

A guilty look crosses James's face, but it's highlighted by arousal. His lips part as he gazes almost shyly at Teddy, shaking his head.

"And you're still half-worried I'll– how did you put it? Pull out, wipe my dick on you, and then go back home to my– well, no girlfriend anymore. Or boyfriend," he adds pointedly.

James gives him an exasperated look, his fingers itching to move, Teddy can tell. Teddy relaxes a fraction and presses against James, letting him slide the tip of one finger inside. James's eyes widen. "Fine, I get it. You won't do that again. It's not like I don't have a bloody good reason to think you'd–"

"So let's do it this way," concludes Teddy, cutting him off with a low voice. He bends forward again, pushing James back down to the bed. He brushes his lips over James's, spreading his legs and further opening himself for James's fingers. He grins against James's mouth. "You. Can. Fuck. Me," he says, exaggerating the words as much as he can. "And run off wherever you want afterward. Or not," he adds.

"Oh-ho!" James laughs, his face breaking into a relieved grin. "You're on, Lupin. You'll never have it as good as this. You _have _bottomed before, right? Oh, wait, what am I talking about, you could see Vic's strap-on through her dress tonight. Wonder if that Auror of hers lets her bend him over the–"

Teddy grabs James's wrist and twists his hips, taking in three of his fingers to shut him up. He hisses, then glares at James. "You finished?" he mutters. "Yeah, I've done this before, and no, I'm not telling you how big her dick is." He gives a sly smile, relishing James's renewed bark of laughter. Pressing his hand up further, James keeps up a steady pressure, opening Teddy with slow but sure pumps of his fingers.

"Fuck, you feel good," he breathes. "Are you really gonna let me fuck you? Because I– _God_, I– Mmrf."

Teddy reaches down and puts one hand over James's mouth. His other hand pulls James's fingers free and replaces them with his cock. Teddy rises on his knees, watching James's face crumple, and nudges James's cock into his cleft. "Stop talking," he says quietly, that wave of authority and dominance he remembers from their first time crashing over him again. God, it has always felt so good to have James pliant and obedient underneath him.

James makes an incoherent noise under Teddy's hand as Teddy sinks down onto him, slower than he needs to but eager to drive James – the most impatient person he's ever met – completely nuts. He was only half-joking about Victoire, but even with others, with men, it really has been awhile. He feels tight and resistant, but his body also seems to– Christ, it sounds mad, but it's like it _recognises_ James, like he knows it's worth relaxing and opening for this. He doesn't think James's cock could possibly have grown that much since the kid was fifteen, but he only felt it in his fist that day, not like this, not pushing inside him.

Oh God, James is so hard. Teddy nearly chokes as he tries to swallow, emotion and desperate arousal overwhelming him.

A nip at his hand brings him back to reality, and he lifts his palm away from James's mouth. James just grins up at him in wonder, not taking him to task for once, the long lines of James's neck stretched taut against the pillow as he tilts his head back.

"Oh my _God_," he whimpers, his hands balled into fists against Teddy's thighs. "Are you– is it okay? Am I doing it right?"

"You're not doing anything," Teddy shoots back, dropping the last inch to press his arse against James's hips. His balls rest over James's lower abdomen, both their eyes shifting to gaze at them. "You're just lying there, remember? I get to do all the work." He tries to look put out. "_Again_."

"Oh, no _way_." James's quick peal of laughter settles down into a shameless groan, but he takes up the challenge. He lifts his hips off the bed, thrusting up into Teddy with a single, forceful push. Teddy's body rumbles with pleasure, the sharp sting of it coated afterwards with liquid heat. "Like that?" whispers James, watching him intently.

"Fuck. Yes." Teddy drops his head forward, his palms smoothing over James's chest.

"Lift up."

"Don't tell me how to do this." He gives James a warning grin, but the little brat only smacks him on the back of one thigh.

"_Up_."

Arching an eyebrow, Teddy tenses his thighs and lifts himself up, trembling at the thick pull of James's cock as it leaves his body, dragging through him. He stops when just the head is still breaching him. He catches James's eye, reaches up to touch his face, and then drops his body down again.

James closes his eyes, gasping. "Oh God," he whispers. "Oh, man. _Teddy_."

This isn't going to take nearly as long as he'd like, but Teddy can't complain. His body is buzzing, every point of it from his toes to his fingertips tingling with arousal. He rides James slowly, a steady pace burning through his thighs and up his spine. James's cock is thick and perfect inside him, swelling with each downstroke and catching on every nerve ending Teddy has. He keeps one hand splayed across James's chest while the other moves to grasp his own dick. His hand curls around it and he nearly comes with one stroke, the combination of James's cock in his arse and new stimulation on his dick almost enough to send him over.

"Fuck, God, how do you come like this?" mutters James, straining to fuck up into Teddy's body hard enough.

Teddy grins, trying not to roll his eyes. "Slower," he answers. "That's the whole point."

James whinges at him, clutching his hips and grinding his pelvis up against Teddy's balls. "Too– slow–" he grunts.

Oh, Jesus. The grinding, the slow pace, Teddy's hand over his cock, it all spirals home for him, and watching James struggle to push in as deep as he wants, desperate to control the pace, it swirls through Teddy and he feels his balls tighten. "Fuck. Fuck." He's coming hard, spurting over James's stomach and his own hand, his body convulsing around James's dick. The intensity of it almost melts him, blinded by black light and bursts of pleasure.

"Oh God. You're so fucking amazing. You should see yourself." James is muttering, frantic. He sits up and heaves against Teddy, rolling them over swiftly and pressing Teddy down onto his back. His cock slips free in the process, but it all happens so fast that Teddy doesn't protest. "Fuck. Got to fuck you. Oh man." He shoves in once more, Teddy already loose and wet and ready, and he's sensitive from his own orgasm but there is nothing that would convince him to stop James now.

James presses Teddy's thighs open and pushes in hard, his fingers white against Teddy's knees where he's shoved them up. Teddy reaches up and grasps the headboard, anchoring himself as James fucks him. Christ, it's hot to watch James like this, on the brink of release and with nothing but naked emotion and desire on his face. "Yeah," whispers Teddy. "Come on. Fuck me."

James takes a heaving breath and stills, his cock pulsing thickly in Teddy's arse. The sensation is incredible, wet and hot and oh, fuck, he could really get used to this. James's head falls to Teddy's chest, his breath coming in shuddering gulps over Teddy's body. Teddy's arms immediately wrap around him, smoothing over his back as he kisses James's hair. This goddamned kid is going to be the death of him, honestly. "_Teddy_," moans James, his lips dry against Teddy's chest. "Holy fuck."

He slips out, and Teddy closes his eyes at the sensation of filth trailing out of his body after James's dick. James flops out half on top of him, half beside him, their legs tangled and one arm thrown over Teddy's chest. "Hey," Teddy says after a moment. "I told you I'm not going anywhere; you don't have to make yourself a human barrier."

James raises his head a fraction and gives him a bleary but petulant look, moving off to the side and flopping down once more. "Better not," he mumbles, closing his eyes.

He's feigning exhaustion. Teddy watches him closely, taking in every line on his young face. His eyes are closed, but his mouth is tense and there's a flutter at the edge of his jaw. Teddy's fingers move gently through his hair, pushing through the dampness to clear the strands off his forehead. Christ, he's gorgeous. Beautiful and perfect and terrified that Teddy will leave again. "James," he murmurs, his lips brushing over his cheek.

"Mm." He keeps his eyes closed, but the flutter in his clenched jaw intensifies.

"You're not going back to Egypt anytime soon, are you?"

One eye opens. "Might be."

"Oh. Yeah. Got a German cock of steel down there, I guess." Teddy's hand stills in James's hair.

The other eye opens. "Well. It's not really _that_ big. And it was only the once. I don't know. He's a bit of a wanker." James shrugs.

Teddy wets his lips. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." James pauses, mischief dancing at his lips. "Guess that's the sort I attract."

"Oh, you little–" Teddy surges over him and wrestles him down to the bed again, and James laughs – a genuine laugh, one Teddy has missed all these years. When James is grinning up at him, his arms pinned above his head and not making much effort at struggling, Teddy leans down and kisses him, soft and wet. "Stay here," he whispers against James's lips.

James pulls back and gives him a look. Try as he might, Teddy can't quite read it. It's not a look he's ever seen from James before. There's too much caution there, remnants of anger and sorrow and no, who knows, maybe that's just Teddy's own projections. But James's face falls back to the neutral look he had at the party when he appraised Teddy, calm and cool and detached and _older_, so much older.

"No. Just. James, wait."

But James is already rising from the bed and heading across the room. _Fuck_. He's screwed it all up again; he'll never be able to have this, not after what he did before. "See you in five years, Lupin," says James coolly. "You'll be ready for another fuck by then, won't you?"

So that's it; there it is. Teddy must look crestfallen; he's not even trying to hide it. There's no way to make it up to James. He was too hurt last time, still not healed, and this was just, what? A pity fuck? A bit of a romp to make his German jealous? Teddy rubs his eyes and falls back down to the bed, defeated. He doesn't even know what to say.

The bed sinks beside his hip. "Oh, hey. No. Not funny. Oh my God, I'm sorry." James's hands are smoothing over his chest and up into his hair, soft caresses in a continual motion as though stopping might make Teddy disappear. "Joking, joking. Oh, shit, the look on your face. You fucked up, but so did I, and just, who cares now? You're brilliant, and you're _here_, and you're not going anywhere, are you?" His brow creases.

Teddy shakes his head across the pillow. "No. God, no."

"Good." James rises again and heads to the loo. "In that case, I'm having a shower," he says over his shoulder, "and then I'm coming back to bed, because I don't know about you, but five _minutes_ without my cock doing something to yours, or yours doing something to mine, is sounding way too long, never mind five fucking years. Have a nap, Lupin," he adds, smirking. "Think about what else you can be the first to do to me."

The door clicks shut and the shower switches on, and Teddy stretches out on the bed, awash with contentment and relief.

 

-fin-


End file.
